‘Why, what have I said?’ ‘You said to me my name. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. Nice, of course. Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another.
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